Rewind
by arcticcomet
Summary: What if the Capitol was never bombed and a certain Deputy Chief of Staff and a lowly HUD Secretary's Chief of Staff addressed their complicated relationship at a party on New Year's Eve? AU Emron. Might get a part 2.


Aaron Shore wasn't all that into parties, especially these days when work left him drained. He had no time for silliness. Yet, he'd promised to attend this New Year's Eve party, as it was thrown by Congresswoman Yoshida, who he'd worked with back when he'd been new in D.C, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Well, mostly anyway.

Speaking of bright-eyes and bushy-tailed (and sometimes infuriatingly idealistic), he spotted Emily Rhodes, chatting with a senate aide. She was wearing a golden dress that hugged her curves perfectly. Shit. He was probably going to lose sleep over thinking about her in it. She was Tom Kirkman's chief-of-staff, who always made sure to let him know when the White House's decisions didn't suit the Secretary of HUD. Most of the time there was little he could do about it, even if he agreed with her (which was more often than he'd care to admit), but her candidness was refreshing in a city where everyone had an agenda. So did Emily, of course, but hers was obvious to anyone who cared to listen.

For reasons he usually refused to examine, this fact made him protective of her. Yes, she was strong and could give anyone, including him, a run for their money in a verbal spar, but her demeanor made her vulnerable to things like the leaked email just a month earlier. He didn't condone harassment and bringing the perpetrators to the public eye didn't bother him at all, but Emily had nearly lost her job. Even his own boss had argued that Emily wasn't important enough for the administration to not tell Kirkman to fire her, but the NSA leaker had proven to be more valuable than Charlie or even the President himself had anticipated. That had created an opportunity for Aaron himself to interfere and to ultimately save her job.

"I don't know if I should be thanking you, but I heard you saved my job," she said, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. He couldn't blame her for that.

His felt his face grow warmer, but played it cool, only shrugging in response.

"What gave you that idea? Although I have to say that was quite a description of the Senator you wrote in that email."

"And every word is true. You talked to Kirkman, and he told me. What I don't understand is why you'd do that for me. Why you'd care. I'm a member of a lowly secretary's staff, while you're in the White House with the big boys. What's my career to you?"

"You're good at your job, and we want the best people working for our administration," he offered, coming up with it as he spoke

Emily threw her head back, letting out a mirthless laugh

"I think you're afraid of me, Aaron. You're scared that I might end up working in the White House, too, so you'd rather keep me happily in my harmless little job with Kirkman. Who knows, I might even be better at your job than you. Actually, scratch that. I _know_ I could do better than you," she says, a challenge in her voice.

"You're not harmless at all, Emily. I guess I deserve the doubts you have of my character, but I suggest you consider alternative theories," he replied, setting his now empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter before heading off to speak to the Congresswoman herself. He just couldn't deal with Emily right now, as much as he enjoyed their banter which sometimes slid into angry flirting. What made him insecure about the whole thing was that he couldn't always be sure if she really believed all those less-than-flattering stories about him being nothing but an ambitious and ruthless asshole.

A little later, Aaron spotted her at the drink table, scooping punch into a cup. An idea began to take form in his head. Oh, how he enjoyed needling her, just a little bit. This would be fun. Frankly, it was probably the same punch that had already gone into his head talking.

Calmly and quietly he snuck behind her, and leaned in. He loved her perfume, and a part of him wanted nothing more than to tell her that. As well as a million other things. How beautiful she was. How badly he wanted to try it out and see if they could manage a nice dinner without killing each other. How much he wanted her.

"How's the punch?" he whispered, and managed to see the goosebumps rise on the skin of her neck right before she tried to turn around (most likely to slap him), but something of hers must've gotten caught on the punch bowl and despite his own attempt to stabilize it, he suddenly found himself covered in the red, sweet-smelling beverage.

"What the hell, Aaron?" hissed Emily.

"I could ask you the same thing," he grumbled back, staring at his wet clothes. He was hardly the only one. The punch bowl was now on the floor in pieces, and everyone was staring at them.

"You're the one who creeped up on me like some high school kid!"

"Fine, I'll give you that, but I'm not the one who broke the bowl!"

"My bracelet must've gotten caught on it. Anyway, there's no way you didn't deserve that."

Aaron sighed.

"Okay. I'm sorry, Emily. I really am. I hope you didn't get any shards on you."

Her face softened slightly, and she relaxed her shoulders.

"I didn't."

"Good. Well, I think I should go and see if there's anything I can do about this mess."

It wasn't even midnight yet, but for Emily it was high time to go home. The coat racks were full, but even a thorough search didn't produce her black wool coat. _Shit._

She was positive she'd left it in the closest rack to the ladies' room, but it just wasn't there. Someone must've taken it by mistake. God knew how many drunk people there were at this party, anyway. She might get it back in the new year.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she decided it was time to give up and call a cab. _Of course_ it'd be him.

"Something wrong?" asked a familiar male voice. Emily rolled her eyes.

"Someone's taken off with my coat," she replied.

"Really? Well, you can take mine," Aaron said, offering her a grey men's coat.

She let out an awkward laugh. Aaron Shore was offering her his coat. The same night she spilled a gallon of punch on his dress shirt. Even if he had earned it for startling her. Sort of.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Aren't you afraid I'd ruin it, like I did your shirt?"

He shook his head.

"No. I think I learned my lesson, and I think you feel that way too."

"You think you know me so well, don't you?"

"It's my job to read people, to figure out their motivations, what makes them tick."

"And you're never wrong?"

"Rarely. Come on, put it on and I'll walk you out. You're taking a cab, right?"

She nodded, at last accepting the coat. The thing was; Aaron never did anything without a reason, an ulterior motive. And she wasn't sure if she was ready to know what it was this time around. First he'd saved her job and now he was letting her take his coat. If she didn't keep her guard up, he'd soon make her change her mind about all men who happened to be as attractive as him being total self-absorbed assholes. It was usually true, but with Aaron there was something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Could his obnoxiousness be nothing but mere camouflage? She knew from listening to office gossip that he didn't have a privileged background, but it seemed that he wasn't particularly interested in discussing it with anyone. He wasn't after her pity, that was for sure.

"You didn't have to walk me out," she told him as they stood side by side on the sidewalk.

He gave another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

"I guess I may have had an ulterior motive," he admitted, taking a glance at the screen of his phone.

"Which would be?"

Just then, the clock struck midnight.

"Happy New Year, Emily."

"Happy New Year."

When he leaned in, she could've pulled away. She probably should've. But she kept her eyes fixed on his mouth and then those lips were on hers, her eyes closing in pleasure almost involuntarily. She'd been expecting him to kiss the way he worked; with passion, but calculation and restraint as well. This was nothing like that. This was sincerity condensed into a kiss, and she pressed on, liking the way his breath hitched in surprise. His hands weren't on her at all, and suddenly she yearned for the contact, which was how her hands ended up twisted in the front of his damp shirt.

Her taxi pulled up, making Aaron pull away from her. She wondered if she should live a little, just for tonight. Despite the way he kissed, was most likely the kind of man who would spend a fun night with her only to dispose of her the next morning. Before she could overthink, she opened her mouth to pose the question, but he pressed a finger on her lips to stop her.

"Hold that thought, that's not how this is going to be. Go out with me tomorrow and I'll let you ask me afterward," he promised.

The words were those of a confident man, but he was biting his lip nervously (which she found ridiculously appealing) like a teenaged boy and there was a slight tremor to his voice.

"Okay," she answered as he removed his finger.

The grin he flashed her was the regular, annoying Aaron Shore trademark smirk that she'd gotten so used to seeing. Only now it gave her a warm, tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it always had, but she's just been too stubborn to realize it.

"I really wanted to dance with you tonight, by the way," he admitted.

Emily raised her brows.

"Really?"

"Yeah, but I figured you might say no after the whole incident with the punch."

"Well, I wouldn't necessarily want to be pressed up against your wet shirt," she replied, congratulating herself for still being able to speak.

"I think that's an exaggeration, Emily. Since you just had your hands up my shirt."

"No, I didn't!" she swatted at him playfully.

"Close enough. I know that's what you wanted, though," he replied, his voice lowering as his lips hovered above hers again. She closed the small distance between them, this time making sure to actually slip her hands underneath his wet dress shirt. His skin was warm and smooth and she cursed him for apparently wanting to show her what a gentleman he could be.

Aaron pulled away from her as a cab stopped beside them.

"Good night," he said, opening the backdoor for her.

"Good night."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"I'm going to hold you to that promise."

"Good."

She was unable to tear her eyes off his until they turned a corner and Aaron disappeared from view. It was a new year, and right now she wanted nothing more than for the magic of tonight between them to never disappear. Thinking about him made her smile stupidly, especially as she wondered if it had been his exact intention to kiss her breathless and then leave her wanting more, for now at least.


End file.
